The Final Reich
by spentlizard
Summary: WW2 Campaign/Zombies AU. Turner survives the events of Hill 493, only for he and his men to walk into another nightmare. When the MFAA needs troop support for their Mittelberg operation, Daniels, Turner, Pierson, Zussman, Stiles, and Aiello join Marie, Drostan, Olivia, and Jefferson in their fight against Doctor Straub's zombie horde. Rated M for swearing/depictions of violence.


**PFC Ronald "Red" Daniels' POV**

* * *

 _November 14, 1944_

"LIEUTENANT!" I shouted after I saw the bullet pass through Turner. He collapsed right on top of me and I couldn't move worth a damn. Then I saw the Kraut officer standing on top of the burning tank holding his pistol. I panicked because neither of us could move, and the guy hopped off the tank, muttering something in German as he cocked his gun again. He started walking closer to us, and I realized I needed to do something fast otherwise me and Turner would be killed. I was pinned down on my right leg so I couldn't grab my pistol at my side, but I did see Turner's revolver still tucked away in his holster so I acted quickly.

I reached for the gun and just pulled the trigger, didn't even bother to pull it out. It hit the Kraut in his right leg and he splashed right into the mud next to us. No doubt by now this bastard was really angry. I pulled Turner's gun right from his holster and turned it towards the German, who'd picked up his own gun from the ground and tried to shoot us. Luckily, I was quicker once again and shot him right in the head.

"TURNER!" I hear Pierson's voice shout from the distance, and I turned my head to see him, Zussman, and Stiles all coming in with more guys. Gently, I rolled Turner off of me so I could get up off the ground. Afterwards I knelt down and started applying pressure to the wound in Turner's side. I saw him wince in pain from the wound, and then I called out to Zussman for morphine.

"Hang in there, sir! We're gonna get you out of here!" I reassure Turner, and Zussman applies the morphine.

"I'm not, I'm not gonna make it," Turner says faintly, "Leave me!"

Nuh-uh, there's no way in hell I'm leaving him here. Turner's kept us all alive since Omaha. I'm not gonna abandon him now.

"I got you!" I say, and then I grab onto his shoulders and start to drag him away from the area. As I'm doing so, I hear Pierson call out "Enemy reinforcements! Fall back!"

I look up and I see at least a dozen Jerries up front. Pierson, Zussman, Stiles and the rest are firing into them while I drag Turner along. He moans in pain from his wound, but I can't stop now. If I do, then he and I are as good as dead. I see the Germans trying to shoot us, and then I pull out Turner's revolver and fire the remaining four shots at them. I think I got one or two of them but my mind's racing so fast I'm not able to tell.

"We're not gonna make it!" I hear Stiles shout. By then I've dragged Turner away from the tank and down behind the sandbags at the base of the hill. The rest of the boys fall back and take cover with us.

"You gotta," Turner begins addressing Pierson, "you gotta get our boys out of here!"

"No, no! We can still make it!" Pierson argues, and for once I find myself agreeing with him.

"You... nrgh, have to retreat-" Turner says as he tries to cock his gun, but the pain's too great for him to do it. Pierson picks up his Thompson and does it for him.

"No, we ain't leaving you here!" Pierson shouts, handing the gun back to Turner.

"You get me up, I'll hold them off!" Turner states, "You have to go! GO!"

"NO FUCKING WAY!" Pierson shouts, pointing a finger right in his face, "WE'RE PULLING OUT THIS TIME, THIS ISN'T FUCKING KASSERINE!"

We all remain silent for a moment, with only the rain and the gunfire breaking the quiet between us. Immediately afterwards, Pierson near throws his gun at me and I'm puzzled. He then seizes Turner by his shoulders and starts dragging Turner away despite his protests. Me, Zussman, and Stiles provide cover fire at the approaching Germans as we near the friendly halftrack. Pierson hauls Turner on, and all of us board the truck as it starts to head downhill towards our lines.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" I hear Turner shout and then I see him talking to Pierson as Zussman started to dress his wounds, "I told you to leave me there, goddammit! That was an order!"

"Oh, so _now_ you're big on the fucking orders, Joseph?! What happened to the guy who socked me for obeying orders twenty minutes ago!? You fucking hypocrite!" Pierson shouted at Turner, and then faced away from him. Turner didn't bother to respond, either because he couldn't come up with a good retort or he had lost too much blood to shout. All I know is that we were so close to losing Turner right there, the only guy who could possibly keep us all from falling apart. That man was prepared to go down fighting the Nazis to make sure we all got away safely. You couldn't ask for a better soldier than that. I guess we were all fortunate that Pierson saw that and wouldn't let him die like that.

We return back to camp, and me and Zussman haul Turner onto a stretcher. The medics come and take him away to the field hospital in the camp, and they place him right next to Aiello. I was still watching as the docs did their magic with him, and I think I heard something about the bullet missing his vital organs. At least he'll live. Hell, maybe if he's lucky he'll be sent back home. But it wouldn't be lucky for us to go back into the field without him around. We'd have to be dealing with Pierson full-time then.

As if on cue, I feel Pierson snatch away his Thompson from my grip, not so much as saying a word to me as he went on his way. Not that it matters, anyway. Me, Zussman, and Stiles still watch as the docs work to help Turner.

"You think he's gonna make it?" Stiles asks.

"He has to," Zussman comments, "he's one tough sonofabitch."

"Amen to that, Zuss," I say, "We wouldn't be able to push to the Rhine without him."

"Don't jinx it, man," Zussman says, "I was lucky to survive that bayonet wound back in Normandy. Turner... let's just hope his luck holds up too."

"Yeah," I say. I pray that Turner makes it. He wouldn't die, not like Paul. I was able to fire this time. I kept him alive.

I would go to Hell and back for Turner if need be, because he had done so already for us.

But what I didn't realize at the time was that we'd yet to experience what Hell was.

* * *

 _December 7, 1944_

Three years to the day when the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor. Three years our country's been in this fucking war. Davis says that victory's within reach, but what would he know? I've seen his record, the guy has never set foot on the battlefield in his life. Oh sure, he might carry an Army .45 and have some punk drive him around in a jeep after the action's settled, but the guy's a talker. Even Pierson's a better soldier than he'll ever be.

We've been holed up for a few weeks now. Winter's fast approaching and there's hear-tell of the Nazis launching a counteroffensive. Turner and Aiello pulled through on their injuries and came back to the platoon. I was fucking relieved to see Turner standing on two feet again.

"Sir, I gotta say, you might just be the toughest SOB in the entire United States Army," Zussman states, shaking his hand.

"Get outta here, man," Aiello speaks up, "He's the toughest SOB in the entire world!"

"It's good to see you all again," Turner says with a smile on his face, "I'm proud of you, all of you. And I hear that one of you got promoted, isn't that right, Corporal Daniels?"

I couldn't help but smile, "Yes sir."

Before I forgot, I pulled Turner's revolver out from my holster and said "Here, this belongs to you."

"Much obliged, Corporal," Turner said, patting me on the shoulder.

"Lieutenant," we hear Pierson's voice boom out, and Turner turns around to face him.

"Sergeant Pierson," Turner responds coolly.

A beat.

"That wound healed up yet?" Pierson asked, much in the same tone he used with Zussman after his recovery.

"Feels funny some, but I'm good enough to get back in the grind," Turner responded, to which Pierson didn't change his stoic expression. Another moment passed, whereupon Pierson said "Colonel Davis is looking for you."

Turner nodded, and went off towards the command tent. We followed after him, and when we got to the tent, we heard voices on the inside, one belonging to Davis and the other was unfamiliar.

"... and once the train arrives we'd conduct our search of the town for the asset," the voice said.

"What would you need my men for?" Davis asked.

"Backup, support," the voice explained, "Mittelberg is mostly deserted anyway. They'd be there in support while my agents conduct their search for our informant. Most likely we won't need them, but... better safe than sorry."

"I don't think you understand, I need these men here to fight the enemy, not go chasing after stolen paintings," Davis responded, "We're on the verge of a massive Kraut counterattack and we need every able-bodied man on board."

"There's more to it than paintings, Colonel," the voice says again, "but the exact details are classified."

"I got General Eisenhower's telegram, his orders said as much. But give me a good reason why I should loan you my finest troops," Davis said. Before the voice could respond, Turner walked through the flap and said, "You sent for me, sir?"

"Ah, yes, Lieutenant Turner, I'd like you to meet Major Hank Rideau, officer in the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program," Davis said.

"Lieutenant, you're reputation proceeds you," Rideau spoke, "Please, you can have your men step inside for this."

We were surprised that we could go in during an official briefing. The details with the SOE operation were kept to a bare minimum, but here we were gonna learn the grimy details. This had to be important. Me, Zussman, Pierson, Aiello, and Stiles all shuffled into the tent and saw Major Rideau. We saluted and he said, "Thank you gentlemen, that'll be all. Now, onto the brief.

"We at the MFAA are dedicated to preserving relics and monuments of historic and intrinsic value. The Nazis have been stealing priceless works of art all across Europe, and it's our job to return it to its rightful owners. It requires a tremendous amount of care and we have agents at the ready to do their jobs, but all we require from you is support should the need arise. General Eisenhower has accepted my request for troop support, and I have decided to have your platoon serve as our backup in our next operation to Mittelberg, a small mining down in Southeast Germany. We will be boarding a train bound for Mittelberg in two days time. Lieutenant Turner, you have twenty-four hours to prepare your platoon before we depart for the train, and from there we will proceed to Mittelberg and retrieve the stolen artifacts. Any questions?"

I didn't know what to say. We'd gone from nearly being wiped out on Hill 493 to being assigned to retrieve paintings. I wanted to laugh but this Rideau guy seemed serious. No one had any questions because we were too confused to know what to ask. Even Turner didn't know what to say.

"Alright then," Davis spoke, "You heard the Major. You got twenty-four hours to get ready, so get your asses in gear."

We all left the tent, heading back to our own tents with the rest of the guys. Turner was looking uneasy, and at first I figured it was from the wound but he looked troubled. Something wasn't sitting well with him about this operation. But why should he be? It's just paintings. Sure, it's right in the heart of Nazi Germany but its not like we're taking on a fucking armored train.

"Hey," I hear Zussman speak and I see him walking alongside me, "Get a load of that guy, huh? We bust our asses on the frontline, and now we're gonna babysitting a bunch of guys while they nab art. I can't decide whether I feel annoyed our talents are being wasted, or relieved that it's a simple mission."

"Heh," I laugh, "It's never that simple."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Zussman responded, "Still, it'll probably a hell of a lot less hectic than some of the shit we've seen."

"Careful, you probably jinxed it," I jab, and he laughs, "Ha-ha, very friggin' funny."

We part ways back to our tents. I open the flap and step inside. I make sure my gear is in order, take off my helmet, and then I lie back against my sleeping bag. I pull out my journal and write about Turner's recovery and Rideau's mission, and then my mind goes back to Hazel. It's a damn shame that I won't be home for Christmas. I would've loved to have spent time with her and our baby. God, I still can't get over the fact that I'm gonna be a father. That'll be the real struggle once we win this war and I make it back stateside.

I close my eyes and drift to sleep.

I hope this next mission ends quickly.


End file.
